


bad habits

by ShadesinBlue



Series: patience [3]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 16:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17247617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadesinBlue/pseuds/ShadesinBlue
Summary: Duff trails a finger along the box of hair dye, showcasing a bright blond on the front. He raises his eyes to Saul’s, quirking an eyebrow. Saul smiles.(a rebellion. a confrontation. jealousy.)





	bad habits

**Author's Note:**

> Worked on by nat (ShadesinBlue) & pegs ([inkk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk))  
> 3rd part in the series, set in early March.

There’s something in the songs that makes heartbreak seem so hauntingly beautiful, Duff thinks. The ache of it all is exquisite, sharp-edged with bright red anger dripping from the lyrics.

Obviously, the songs are wrong. Duff has found that heartbreak isn’t a feeling—if anything, it’s a lack of emotion. A dull throb in the back of the head, like a migraine that just won’t go away. And Duff hates it more than anything; the fact that Axl is just a blurry memory pressed flat in the spaces of his mind, hidden behind test scores, club meeting dates, and his parents approval.

Forgetting doesn’t seem to be an option. Axl made that impossible, like a final jab at Duff. All of the small, unimportant habits and details stick to Duff, refusing to fade away. Every day at school, that red hair stands out like a beacon under the fluorescent lights. Once, Axl had caught his eye for just a second. Duff had looked away before he could begin to interpret the look, twist it to mean more than just a passing glance between people who used to fit into and against the others spaces.

He’s tired of it all. Tired of being Michael McKagan, teachers pet and shoe-in for valedictorian, the try hard with no friends. Duff is sick of being smothered by his family’s expectations and their control disguised as care, making sure he stays on the path carved for him towards a bright, bland future in this god-forsaken town. He doesn’t want to look into the mirror anymore and be able to point out every spot Axl’s lips had been pressed against at some point in time, the dark hair Axl’s fingers had wrapped around. Duff wants, desperately, to be somebody else.

“You ready to do this, or not? You aren’t chickenin’ out on me, are ya McKagan?” Duff glances up, meeting Saul's eyes in the mirror. When they’d first met, Saul had insisted on being called Slash. Duff had refused. He’d had enough of guys with leather jackets insisting on being called weird names that weren’t theirs.

Duff turns in one easy movement, tugging Saul in by the lapels of his jacket, smoothing the hair back from his face. It’s a practiced move and none of it is Michael McKagan, who up until a couple months ago had never even been kissed. No, this is all Duff, a smirking mask who can struggle through a couple songs on a pawn-shop bass guitar, hold his vodka and then some, and kiss boys like he’s been doing it forever. Like it means nothing. Duff guesses, it doesn’t, really. At least, not this boy.

“Babe, we’ve been through this. I’m gonna do it just like I did everything else, eventually.” Duff motions to the tattoo he’d gotten with Saul in some random guys basement the same day he’d seen Axl chatting up Brooke Davis after math class. Then, the nose ring pierced with a needle from Mrs. McKagan's sewing kit on the month marker of the breakup.

Nothing’s happened today to trigger this, not exactly, but Duff had woken up restless. The feeling carried throughout the school day, intensifying when he’d seen a familiar flash of green-blue eyes light up with laughter across the hall. Duff had skipped immediately after, not bothering to stop for the voice calling his name as he’d stormed out of the building. His stomach still thrills with nervous anticipation at the prospect of skipping class, even if he’d been doing it an increasing amount in the past weeks. Saul had caught up to him in the parking lot, slinging a thin arm around Duff before piling into the passenger's seat. The two of them drove around town, recklessly taking the back roads in sharp turns not meant for the shiny, silver Prius Duff owns. At some point, Saul lit up a cigarette, passing it to Duff in a back and forth game until the car was filled with smoke fumes.

Now, Duff trails a finger along the box of hair dye, showcasing a bright blond on the front. He raises his eyes to Saul’s, quirking an eyebrow. Saul smiles.

 

 

The next day at school, people stare at him when he passes by, gazes catching on the borrowed leather jacket, sticking to the scuffed cowboy boots that click against the school tiles. Duff has never felt more in control or more out of his element. Michael might have ducked his head and scurried past, going to hide away in an abandoned bathroom stall or classroom until the whispers stopped rattling in his ears. Duff just raises his head higher, chin tilted at a cocky angle, mouth pulled into a smirk—defiant. The chain connected to his heavy belt rattles against the leather pulled tight over his thighs. He moves a strand of bleached hair away from his face, grinning to himself when he thinks of the splotchy coloring Saul accomplished.

His mother went ballistic when he’d gone downstairs this morning. Not that Duff paid any attention to her screeching. He’s sure there’ll be hell to pay for that later.

Saul appears at his side, sunglasses pushed high on the bridge of his nose. He leans in to give Duff a wet kiss on the side of his mouth, saliva thick with the smell of Jack Daniels. “Nice hair, Blondie.” The use of a nickname would have made Michael blush but Duff doesn’t even blink.

“Some hack job did it for me. Called himself some weird ass name like Slasher or whatever,” he says, deadpan even when Saul elbows him hard in the ribs.

“Shut up, loser. You know that dye was cheap otherwise it would’ve come out-oh,” Saul draws out, his hair bouncing around his face. Duff can’t see his expression behind the mass of curls but he imagines it to be gleeful. The grip Saul has on his arm tightens.

“Don’t look now but you’ve caught someone’s attention.” The teasing tone to Sauls voice is edged by a sliver of cruelty. Duff forgets sometimes how downright mean Saul can be. “And judging by the way he’s looking at you, he thinks you look good enough to eat.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not interested.”

“Because you’re taken,” Saul finishes for him, fingers curled hard enough that Duff knows there will be tiny plum-colored bruises on his upper arm.

He shrugs. “Guess so.” There’s a voice in the back of Duff’s mind screaming at him that he is not Saul’s, never will be no matter what promises they trade under the influence of stolen liquor. He belongs to someone else.

But that isn’t true anymore. So Duff pushes down everything he feels or thinks before raising his eyes to meet Axl’s.

Saul was wrong. Axl isn’t looking at him like he’s good enough to eat. Axl looks confused, forehead scrunched tight as his eyes flicker over Duff, taking him in. The jean jacket he’s wearing has a handful of new patches on it, stories behind them that Duff doesn’t know, can no longer ask about. He wonders if it still smells the same.

The tightness in Duff’s throat is sudden. “Actually, I think I’m gonna head out.” He shakes his head, blond strands flying. “I forgot I had to do something at home.” The lie is obvious but Saul doesn’t call him on it, just smiles in a tight line before stalking off.

Duff is out the door in a matter of seconds, hands balled into fists inside the pockets of his battered jacket. The spring air is damp with the smell of rain though the sky is free of clouds. Axl loves the rain, used to make Duff go out and dance in it until they were both soaked to the bone, teeth chattering between kisses. He closes his eyes for a second against the memories, presses a fist hard against his eyelids until starbursts form. When he opens them again, Axl is in front of him.

Axl is wearing the Led Zeppelin shirt they’d picked out at the vintage store on the edge of town. His mouth is pressed into a frown, eyes gray in the sunlight. He looks so beautiful that Duff wants to cry. But he won’t because Michael is the one who cried; who sobbed and pleaded and begged for Axl to just explain it to him, make him understand, defend himself. Duff will not do any of those things.

“You need something, Bailey?” It’s a clear dig meant to get a reaction. Axl just blinks, long and slow.

“Just wondering why someone like you is hanging around someone like Slash, dressed like that.”

“Someone like me?” Duffs lip quirks up even though he wants to punch the calm look off of Axl’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you look ridiculous. And what did you even do to your hair?” Axl reaches out like he might grab a strand of Duff’s hair to emphasize his words. Duff jerks back violently enough that it can’t be called anything but a flinch. The hand falls back to Axl’s side.

“He treatin’ you good?” Axl mutters, kicking at the pavement with the toe of his boots. His red hair flashes in shades of copper. “If he isn’t, I’ll kick his ass.”

The laugh escapes Duff without warning, leaving him powerless to pull it back in. “Yeah, right.”

Axl stops his fidgeting, posture stiffening as his eyes narrow. “What’s so funny, McKagan?” It’s ironic, Duff thinks, how the name Saul calls him a handful of times every day doesn’t have half the effect on him as it does when Axl says it.

“Nothing.”

Axl takes a step closer. “No, if you’ve got something to say, I wanna hear it.” Despite the obvious height difference, Axl has always had the ability to dwarf Duff with his presence. It’d never bothered him when they were together because then it had made him feel safe, protected. Not small.

“I think,” he says, “you should get a clue and back off.”

“Yeah?” Axl has an amused look to his eye, fond in the way he used to be when Duff did something particularly adorable. “That what you want?”

“Yeah. Not that you would know anything about what I want. Or what I need.” Flashes of their last fight play in Duff’s mind. A vindictive streak colors his next words. “But Saul does. He knows exactly what I need.” The look of abrupt fury crossing Axl’s face feeds his own building anger.

“Oh,” Axl sneers the words. “You really think Slash cares about you at all? That you aren’t just a toy to him?”

“No. I know he doesn’t.” Duff looks Axl dead in the eye. The rage, the hurt, the heartbreak fueling him are all Michael but the words are Duff’s. “But I learned to not expect a whole lot from trailer trash rejects.”

Duff is pushed against the car behind him faster than he can react, Axl’s fists gripping the front of his jacket hard enough to leech the blood out of his knuckles. He holds his breath for the first punch. He knows Axl’s rage, has seen the intensity of it, the way Axl’s eyes go poison green with hate. Duff has never been on the receiving end of those fists but he’s seen Axl fight enough to know he doesn’t pull punches.

Axl breathes out in a sound close to a growl. A twitch spasm his fingers around Duff’s jacket. Duff swallows, the sound thick between them. “Do it,” he whispers. “Do it, you coward. We both know you want to.”

Their eyes meet and hold. A thousand moments pass between them with the promise that there could be a thousand more. Duff feels the urge to reach out, to cave to Axl. But he is tired of being the one to compromise, the one to sacrifice without question.

So instead of grabbing Axl to pull him closer like he wants to, Duff shoves him, hard. Axl stumbles back a step, more surprised than hurt. An incredulous look crosses his face as he stares at Duff like he’s seeing a stranger. A second passes, then Axl shakes his head, scoffing. Without another word, he turns on one heel in a graceless pivot and leaves.

Duff is left alone in the parking lot, clutching onto the spot of his jacket where Axl’s hands had been.

It’s still warm.

**Author's Note:**

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> -  
> find us on tumblr:  
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